Page 9 of Cloaked in Deception (Spencer & Reid Mysteries #4)
Chapter Five
M orning sunlight brightened the gray Portland stone edifice of the Royal Courts of Justice.
Positioned on a busy intersection along the Strand, the massive building, with its imposing Gothic style arches and turrets, had only recently been opened by the Queen.
The new home of England’s High Court and Court of Appeals had been designed to exude integrity and power, but as Jasper entered, he only had the vague sense of pomposity.
He believed in law and justice, of taking criminals off the street and doling out fair punishment.
But he could not stomach the politics that went on in the higher echelons of the police and justice systems. The conversation with Chief Inspector Coughlan earlier had left a burr under his skin.
Treating mediocre police officers and detectives with kid gloves was no way to improve the outcomes of investigations by the Met.
There were plenty of men joining the police force every year, and clearing the department of inept detectives would give opportunity to newer officers once they’d come up through the ranks.
But then, Jasper wasn’t in charge at Scotland Yard, and he never would be if he got sacked.
He obtained directions to Sir Eamon’s chambers from a clerk in the reception hall and then made his way there.
The previous evening, he’d only spoken to the chief coroner briefly before installing himself in the corner of the parlor.
He seemed a pleasant enough man, but the interaction hadn’t been sufficient for Jasper to form any real opinion of him.
The secretary in the anteroom looked at Jasper’s warrant card with grim understanding, then knocked on the closed door to the office. After stepping inside and murmuring in low tones, the secretary emerged again.
“Sir Eamon will see you now.”
The chief coroner wasn’t alone. Jasper entered the office, a large space dominated by mahogany and leather, and found another man seated in a club chair.
This man, whom he’d never seen before, impaled Jasper with a cold glare.
With smoke wreathing the air from their cigars, the two appeared to have been having an easy conversation.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your meeting,” Jasper said, but Sir Eamon stood and waved the apology off.
“Not at all. I expected someone from the Yard this morning. Do come in. Cigar?”
“No, thank you.” He didn’t care for them, and he also didn’t want to get too snug with the chief coroner.
“Allow me to introduce you,” Sir Eamon said, then turned toward his guest, who was still seated and glaring daggers at Jasper. “Detective Inspector Reid, this is Mr. Stanley Hayes. Stanley was once on the Board of Governors for the orphanage.”
A frisson of surprise went through Jasper, followed by one of understanding.
The man’s hateful look made sense now. Although Jasper had ended his relationship with Constance Hayes before ever meeting her parents, Stanley had surely heard about the working-class man his daughter had been carrying on with.
To save face, Constance would have told her parents that she’d been the one to call things off between them, and Jasper would not dispute it.
He owed her that much, if only for having drawn out their courtship for too long.
Nevertheless, it appeared Stanley Hayes despised him.
With the questions Jasper needed to ask, he braced himself for a disagreeable exchange.
“Mr. Hayes,” he said with a bob of his head.
Stanley blew out a cloud of cigar smoke. He stayed in his seat and gave no greeting.
“How is Miss Spencer?” Sir Eamon asked, overlooking Stanley’s cold demeanor. “I heard the good news that she was released by her abductors without harm.”
“She’s well, thank you,” Jasper said, one eye on Stanley Hayes as he kept the cigar between his molars.
“A relief,” Sir Eamon said. “My grandson introduced me to her briefly last evening. Connor thinks very highly of her.”
The mention of the new city coroner was a point of irritation, but Jasper was barely given the chance to feel it before Stanley Hayes gave a snort of derisive laughter. Both Jasper and Sir Eamon turned to him, baffled by the man’s outburst.
“Ah, yes, I’ve heard about Miss Spencer,” he said, his low opinion of her not to be missed. “A young woman, working in a morgue? Eamon, your grandson should have more sense than to encourage such indecency.”
Constance, too, had disparaged Leo for working in a morgue. It was no surprise Mr. Hayes concurred with his daughter.
The chief coroner raised a brow at his cantankerous guest but did not comment.
“I’m glad you’re here, Mr. Hayes,” Jasper said, surprising him. He frowned and lowered his cigar. “I’ve some questions for you as well as for Sir Eamon.”
Mr. Hayes brought his crossed leg down to the floor and sat forward. “What questions could you possibly have for me? I was not in attendance last evening.”
“Precisely. However, your name, along with that of Mrs. Hayes, were on the guest list my constables were given. Why did you choose not to attend?”
“How is that your concern?”
“I need to speak to all guests on the list, regardless of whether they attended or not,” Jasper explained.
“The guests are victims of this band of ruffians. A woman was murdered.” Mr. Hayes got to his feet. “I do not see the rationale in questioning the guests as if they are suspects. In fact, it is damn insulting.”
Jasper did not flinch. He’d had plenty of experience questioning belligerent people. As with them all, Stanley Hayes’s complaints would not cause Jasper to rescind his questions.
“I mean no offense, Mr. Hayes, but the rationale for questioning guests is for me to determine, as I am the one investigating the crimes committed,” he said as evenly as he could.
“Now, you can explain while I’m here why you did not attend the dinner last night, or we can meet at Scotland Yard to discuss it. ”
Mr. Hayes appealed to the chief coroner with an imploring look. But like Jasper, Sir Eamon only waited for the man’s answer.
With a huff, he finally said, “My wife was feeling ill last evening. That is why we did not attend. Is that an adequate response for you, Inspector Reid?”
“It is,” Jasper answered with a false grin. “Thank you. I can turn my questions now to the chief coroner.”
He scoured Jasper with another look of loathing, then said a terse “Good day” to Sir Eamon, shutting the door forcefully behind him.
“Well, Reid, I would say you’ve made yourself an enemy,” Sir Eamon commented as he walked back toward his desk. He sounded amused rather than upset.
“A daily occurrence, I’m afraid,” Jasper replied, and it earned him a chuckle. He wouldn’t share why Stanley Hayes had been predisposed to disliking him. “When was Mr. Hayes involved with the orphanage?”
“I’m rather new to the Board. Been on it five years now.
But I believe Stanley was one of the original governors when the orphanage opened.
At first, it was just a fund, with charity being divvied out to officers’ widows, but the governors soon realized an orphanage would alleviate the widows’ financial worries more effectively. ”
By taking on the day-to-day care and expense of keeping the children fed and healthy, Jasper presumed.
“What questions do you have for me?” he asked as he snuffed out his cigar. He seemed direct and efficient, and Jasper was glad for it.
“I observed you in a tense discussion with the victim, Martha Seabright, before dinner,” he replied.
The chief coroner sighed, as though he’d known the question would come up. “Yes. I rather think several people witnessed that conversation.”
“About what were the two of you speaking?”
Sir Eamon pulled out the wheeled leather chair at his desk and sat.
He leaned back and raised his hands in a gesture of puzzlement.
“Honestly? I’m not sure. Mrs. Seabright tried to take me aside a few times during the gathering before dinner, but as you can understand, as host, I needed to welcome guests to our home and circulate. ”
Jasper could understand it, though not by experience.
He couldn’t think of anything more repellant than hosting a dinner for thirty or more people in his home.
His address on Charles Street would have accommodated the numbers, but the place wasn’t nearly fashionable enough inside to host the sort of people the chief coroner had invited.
Jasper’s father had bequeathed him the home, which was far too large and in too well-heeled a neighborhood to keep up easily on a detective inspector’s wages.
He’d come to a hard decision recently: He would have to sell his father’s house.
How Gregory Reid had managed it all these years still baffled him.
It wasn’t something he and Jasper had ever discussed, and though Jasper had questioned it, he’d never asked his father directly.
When his father had fallen terminally ill, the upkeep of the house was the last thing on Jasper’s mind.
“How did Mrs. Seabright seem to you?” he asked after pushing away the drop of his stomach; it happened whenever he thought of leaving 23 Charles Street.
“Distressed,” Sir Eamon answered. Then, more thoughtfully, he said, “Panicked, I would say. When she finally did waylay me, she asked the oddest question. She wanted to know if a certain nurse was still employed at the orphanage.”
“Which nurse was she curious about?”
Sir Eamon, still frowning at the memory, replied, “A Nurse Radcliff. I answered that yes, she still worked at the orphanage, but Mrs. Seabright didn’t say why she wished to know. She simply…stormed off.”
There was no obvious reason why Mrs. Seabright’s question should have lifted the small hairs on Jasper’s arms, however, they stood on end. It was instinct, and it was how he knew this detail was important to the case.